


You are my pain and pleasure

by xanster



Series: Deja Vu No Matter The World [12]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 08:12:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8048905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanster/pseuds/xanster
Summary: Love in spite of pain and pleasure





	You are my pain and pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> still trying to dump my random drabbles in order to work through my writer's block. this is actually quite personal to me as i learnt that such so-called sexually-deviant practices between two informed and consenting adults are only really successful and fulfilling if there is mutual trust and care for the other. if not, it can easily become a tool for and of abuse.
> 
> X-posted along with accompanying music @ xanster.livejournal.com

**Warnings: graphic descriptions of Bondage, Discipline, Sadism & Masochism play. **

the scars on his back are still visible although time has faded them, blurring the edges just as time has healed the pain of those memories.

he is breathing quietly, naked and on his knees in the middle of the room, their 'den' they call it, hidden behind an ordinary-looking wooden door in the penthouse apartment. By day, it is locked. Just a door in the study. But when the mood arises, the door stands open. An invitation into a deeply private and safe space.

Implements of all sizes and shapes line the dark-leathered walls. Whips and riding crops; metal chains; knives. The lone ebony bedside table is a treasure chest of sex toys. Dildos. Butt plugs. Vibrators. Mouth gags. Wet wipes and lubrication accompany them.

The ceiling is high, higher than the rest of the apartment. The room had been specially-built to meet exact requirements. There is no window; temperature is centrally-controlled. The floor is wooden. In the middle is a king-sized bed covered in dark red sheets as befitting the purpose of the room. Along the sides are props; some affixed to the wall; some standalone. A sex swing; a set of beams to tie a person to. To the inexperienced eye, it would be a torture chamber, equally at home with the kind used to get spies to breathe out their secrets. But to the naked man with the sheen of sweat and the increasing heart-beat, on his knees in the middle of the chamber, it is something he is very used to.

His arms are tied together with a silk sash. His wavy bangs fall into his eyes and he shakes them out, waiting. His breath hitches as he feels the presence of another enter. It's _him_. _He_ is standing behind him now. The one he is subservient to; his master. A mixture of adrenaline and uncertainty interlace and shoot through his veins.

he is hard and getting harder. even if he fought it with all his might, this is something his body has become attuned to. desire and annoyance at his body's betrayal just at the simple feel of the other person fight with the deeper feelings that unfurl from within. because of him.

"you are so quiet, so good." the other speaks, approvingly. a voice behind him, that promises hell and heaven both at the same time.

he is quiet, he cannot speak unless allowed; he had tried before and had been punished promptly. something he did not care to repeat.

then the other, his Master, kneels behind him and kisses the back of his neck, then the top of his shoulder and then the biggest scar that remains, lashed across his shoulders and down in a diagonal line.

the deep feelings inside, increase even more in a whirlwind. he feels emotion threaten to bubble out from his dark-lidded eyes that stare obstinately at the floor in front of him. he always does this before any of their sessions, intentionally and insistently breaking form as expected of a dom. he feels both comforted and weakened by the intimate gesture and then anger spikes through, as it always does. he bristles, the tensing of his posture, a signal to the other that he must do his part; play his role.

the other smirks and then he feels the leather fray of a riding crop caress his back.

"Count."  
The crop leaves and then  
"One" he gasps out as the initial strike surprises him as it always does. The sting setting his skin on fire.  
"Two."  
He feels his skin burn.  
"Three."  
It continues until they reach 10.

The voice is near his right ear again, praising him as he pants.  
"So good, baby. So obedient."  
There is a pause as the other checks his reddened back to make sure no skin was broken. And then another kiss on his nape, signalling the end of the lashing. He inhales again, fighting the whirl of emotions that erupt everytime the other touches him like that even during play. There is a time and place for everything.

"Get on the bed and lie down, baby."  
He gets up gingerly, legs slightly asleep. His cock is still as hard as ever, red and pulsating. He turns around and lies down, studiously trying to avoid looking at his Master and staring up at the ceiling.

something round is slipped on his cock; a cock-ring. then his legs are spread and bent at the knee so they are wide open in an obscene W.

"So gorgeous."  
He then feels the press of a lubricated vibrator against his entrance and he tries to stifle a moan. No sound is allowed yet. His Master is on between his legs, one hand pushing in the vibrator and another, brushing fingers gently up and down the soft triangle of skin behind his balls. He feels like he could cry from the exquiste torture he was being put through. And then his Master puts his mouth on him and sucks down his length and in spite of the cock ring, he feels like he could burst and come.

He moans again, hands pulling at the silk bind. The rush of sensations drowning him from inside. His Master bites the inside of his thigh as a warning and he quietens, tears welling up in his eyes.

Then the vibrator leaves and in its place is something harder and rougher, his Master's full and heavy cock. He pushes in and waits and then he thrusts in. Slamming himself against the prone man, using his body for his pleasure. His neglected cock weeps pre-cum, begging for release.

Then his Master lets go and a warmth fills him up from inside. Still joined, he feels the cock ring being pulled off, and the thrusting continues. He squirms and arches his back, his nipples hard and dusky. His Master grabs one in his mouth and pinches the other, and he almost howls there and then.

"Free". The codeword, the permission for him to scream and come, do whatever he wanted. He screams and screams and comes so hard, his body jerks and he momentarily blacks out. His cum squirts out long and far. He almost can't breathe amidst the tears that fall from his delayed orgasm.

When he comes to, he finds himself cleaned up and tucked beneath the sheets, cradled against the warm chest of his Master.

He turns around, hands free from their bind and pecks him on the lips.  
"That was amazing, Yunho." He whispers.

His Master is watching him fondly but with a tinge of something sad behind his gaze. He recognises it immediately and puts his arms around the other's neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"No, stop it Yun-ah. I'm okay, I'm not hurt. I loved it." He reassures, peppering the older man's face with small kisses.

They have had this conversation a few times when they first started. Yunho who was forever afraid that he would unintentionally hurt him. But it wasn't Yunho that did, it was someone else. A long time ago.

"Loved it or.." The other man's voice is quiet, unsure. He sighs, knowing that he is to blame for Yunho's insecurity. A fear that he had become so conditioned to being hurt during sex that he could only fuck that way; that he could only love someone who hurt him.

"You. I loved it because it was _you_." He promises, sincerely. He would repeat this everyday if he had to. It was Yunho that healed him, that took a chance on the battered and broken person that he was and loved him despite it all. He had regained his confidence because of Yunho; until the point he was confident enough to try BDSM again.

When they had met, it was at the rich men's sex club that he and his ex had frequented. The man who had introduced him to BDSM; the man who had awakened in him the appeal of pain and pleasure and then, cruelly used it to satisfy just his own selfish needs, eventually hurting him physically and emotionally. The scars on his back were a reminder of that dark period. But there had been a man, a handsome man with kind eyes and an aura that drew him in. _That_ man had watched him when they first met; had noticed when his eyes became sad and jaded; had seen the bruises and then, had made the first confrontation and then thrown the first punch at his ex.

Abuse wasn't tolerated at the club and his ex was disgraced and banned. _That_ man too, was powerful enough to ensure that you didn't mess with him or anything that belonged to him. And now that included, _him_. _That_ man was his new lover, new Master and yet, in all his entirety, that man was always **his** Yunho.

"Anytime I don't want to, I can stop you. You know that. I love you, Yunho. I trust you with every bit of my being."

Yunho just holds him tighter, smiling for the first time. He enjoys their sessions but he will always be worried of hurting his younger lover, especially after everything they had gone through.

"And you're still such a sap," the younger laughs, eyes twinkling. "Kissing my scars during play isn't how a dom should behave."

"That's because I'm not just any dom. I'm _your_ dom. And I love you very much, Changmin." Yunho replies, leaning in for a kiss.

Changmin closes his eyes, smiling against Yunho's lips before parting his own and leaning up to deepen the kiss.

"I know", he breathes out, feeling the safest and the most loved he has ever felt.


End file.
